


there comes a time when you swim or sink

by butforthegrace



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Choices, Gen, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butforthegrace/pseuds/butforthegrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seven years of infighting, throughout which the young witches and wizards have been told time and again to be loyal to each other, after years of the demonization of her house, Daphne is tired.  But no one likes a Slytherin except the Slytherins themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there comes a time when you swim or sink

**Author's Note:**

> For [At the Close: Harry Potter Wars Comment Ficathon](http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/797887.html).  
> Prompt was: daphne greengrass -- during war -- _i'm not them_  
>  Takes place during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"But he's there! Potter's  _there_! Someone grab him!" Pansy screams, and Daphne flinches, ever so slightly, away from the words. Her stomach sinks as the rest of the students turn toward them, to protect Harry, to defend him against Slytherin House.

After seven years of infighting, throughout which the young witches and wizards have been told time and again to be loyal to each other, after years of the demonization of her house, Daphne is tired. She's tired of being shoved into a little box, told she can only be so different from the rest of her house. She was part of Pansy's little gang because she had to be, because if she wasn't--she feared the retaliation, and she feared the ostracism. If she wasn't with Pansy, no one else would have her. No one likes a Slytherin except the Slytherins themselves.

And she wonders why they've done so much to cultivate their image of being so wholly apart from the rest of Hogwarts. It's tiresome, being whispered about and avoided; it's tiresome, being expected to be someone that she isn't. She wants to scream it now, as the students in the Great Hall shift, throwing their loyalties wholly against Slytherin House:  _I'm not them! Listen to me! I'm not them!_

But she's too afraid to speak, and instead she looks at Pansy, who is pale at the sight of drawn wands. Professor McGonagall orders the entire house out, and Daphne follows, knowing that no one—neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor nor Ravenclaw nor Hufflepuff—will let her stay.

But she is chafing against the orders; she keeps turning around, restless, watching as other students follow the Slytherins out of the hall and to the Room of Requirement. Her wand hand itches.  _They wouldn't even give you a chance,_  she tells herself again and again. Up ahead, Pansy is complaining in vicious whispers to Millicent, who nods sympathetically. They glance back at Daphne once or twice but don't include her. Maybe they can see that she's drifted away.

  


When people start going back to fight later, Daphne knows without a doubt that she needs to join them. She's been standing around at the edge of the group of Slytherins. None of them notice her until she tries to go—Pansy grabs her arm and hisses, “What are you doing?”

“Leaving. To fight.”

Her once-friend looks at her with disbelief. “To fight? With all the other losers? There's no way any of you are going to win.”

“I don't care.”

“You're one of us, Daphne. You're a Slytherin.”

“No,” Daphne says. “I'm not. I'm me.” And she jerks her arm out of Pansy's grip and runs off before anything else can happen, a wand in her hand and Unforgivable Curses on her tongue. She's pleased to see that other, younger Slytherins are joining her, given the courage to go by Daphne's willingness to trade in one kind of fighting for another.

A Ravenclaw stops her as she returns to the battlefield. “You're a Slytherin,” he says, with undisguised contempt. “What are  _you_  doing here? Come to sell us all to Voldemort?”

“Believe it or not, not all of us like Death Eaters,” she snaps. “Shouldn't you be welcoming the help instead of trying to chase me away?” Instead of waiting for an answer, she keeps running up the steps, to the Great Hall. She's determined to prove everyone wrong about her house. She's determined to help win the battle—and win the war.

 _I'm not them,_  she says to herself, thinking of Pansy and Millicent and all of the Slytherins who stayed behind, out of the battle, giving in to the cowardice of their own reputation.  _I'm not them._


End file.
